


Mr All American

by oneinasmallloanofamilliondollars



Category: 5SOS, Donald Trump - Fandom, Political RPF - US 21st c., monald trifford
Genre: M/M, Multi, is this, my soul dies every time I write a new chapter, what the fuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-26
Updated: 2017-02-20
Packaged: 2018-05-23 09:59:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 19
Words: 8,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6113002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oneinasmallloanofamilliondollars/pseuds/oneinasmallloanofamilliondollars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The first line is incredible." - Ryan from the group chat</p><p>When Michael first arrived at LAX, he never thought he would meet the man of his dreams...<br/>Join us on the toupee-raising adventure of follicles, fondling and friendship.</p><p> </p><p>Rated explicit. </p><p>Disclaimer: we do not own either of the people in this and the views expressed are not actually those of the Donald Trump and/or Michael Clifford (probably).</p><p> </p><p>like comment rate subscribe  </p><p>We are teenage girls pls don't sue us.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Monday, 31st Februaury

America was colder than Australia. "America is colder than Australia," Michael thought to himself dismounting the plane.

Donald appeared out of nowhere. "Whoah Donald Trump!! You're an even bigger asshole than Tony Abbott!!"

"You betcha kid!" Trump laughed, cracking a devilish grin.

Then they fucked.

***

Michael awoke from his dream, sweat sticking his pourous damaged (red? blue? white? fuck knows.) hair to his large pasty forehead.  He looked down. "Shit!!" he exclaimed quietly to himself, shuffling towards the on-board bathroom, his leather jacket discretely covering the moderately sized tent forming in his tight black jeans. It was going to be a long flight.

After finishing in the bathroom Michael reemerged shaking his head. It hadn't always been this way. Wade, his fiance, would be disgraced to hear about such dreams Michael had been having of late. But ever since he first layed eyes on the Republican Candidiate and heard the way the silver fox talked about simply _ripping_ the other candidates appart and building an _gigantic_ wall, and the way that vein in his neck _throbbed_ whenever he mentioned Mexicans - Michael shook his head, he couldn't think about that right now, the bathroom was already engaged.

Glancing at his phone, the young man noticed four texts and was jolted back to reality at the thought of his loving boyfriend, whom he was visiting.

"Hi babe xoxo when u landing??"

"cant w8 2 c u"

"i made some modifications 2 the suit"

";)"

Michael smirked, the plane signaled for landing and he knew. He knew he would soon be with the one he loved.

Whoever that may be.

 

END OF PROLOUGE


	2. Chapter 2

It was a normal day in Trump mansion. Donald had woken to the sound of his hot daughter, Ivanka, purring to her new boyfriend over the phone.

He lay there, thoughts flooding his mind. As of late, these thoughts had often been not of Ivanka but of the young men she would make aquaintance with and often bring home.  
Their ripping biceps and their sumptuous lips- what those lips could do- the possibities were endless.  
As he heard her leave, Donald threw on his sealskin dressing gown and swayed down the stairs, hearing the sound of blaring chart music grow louder. He chuckled to himself; Ivanka must have left MTV on.  
He walked towards the remote and was about to turn over to something more itellectual, like Fox News or TLC, when he heard the music change. He looked up at the screen. It was him.  
Michael.  
Donald's stomach filled with butterflies, as though a thousand rednecks were screaming his name. He felt something tingle deep inside.  
He stood for a while, mesmerised by the guitarist's vocals and instrumentals as though he were in a trance. He hadn't listened to them for so long, trying to block out these  
thoughts of holding Michael close to him late at night or dying the young boy's hair a new vibrent colour, his own thick fingers running through the wet locks: but he couldn't bring himself to change the channel.  
He knew it was rediculous, that he would never meet the boy he loved so dearly. Never hold him the way he needed to, never feel him inside him the way he had wanted for so long. Never feel their limbs entwine in the heated moments of passion and lust he desperately craved.

But a Presidental Candiate could dream.


	3. Chapter 3

Michael scowelled. For months they'd been planning to attend warped tour together. He finally got enough time away from the band and booked the tickets just to here Wade sigh as he declined the offer. "You know how it is babe, the world wont save itself."

"I just wish this new job of yours didn't take you away from me so much - we already hardly see each other as it is, and now im finally here, spending time with you, and you can't even spare me the time of day!" Michael found himself nearly yelling. Frustrating as it was, he understood. Wade's job was important to him and Michael had to respect that.

"Just go without me, you'll make friends! You're Michael freaking Clifford!! And warped tour isn't the only thing happening in Texas this month." Perhaps his fiance had a point, warped tour on his own couldn't be that bad. Could it? He shook his head and smiled weakly, "I guess I'll find a way to enjoy it on my own." Wade smirked and Michael blushed - suddenly aware of the innuendo he had just made. Hiding his face slightly he returned to the couch and flicked through the tv channels, they were so different from the Australian channels - he paused on one titled NBC. And there he was. Michael was stunned, he had been determined since his plane ride to get the thought of The Donald out of his head - yet everywhere he looked the dashing politician appeared. From the podium he was talking about his latest trip to Texas, which would take place in two weeks time. Michaels stomache dropped, the exact same week warped tour. Could this finally be his chance to meet his sexy hero?

He shook his head, banishing the posibility, _Wade_ should be his sexy hero.

He looked over at his fiance, now dressed tightly in his red and black leather suit, reaching for his mask. As he turned around Michael took in the sight of his tight buttocks clenched in his suit.He visulalised gently squeezing them, lust and passion filled his eyes. But lust and passion for the wrong person as the image in his head changed to that of the storng arms of Donald John Trump (Sr.) hands running through the mans ashy hair. His boner was conflicted.

"God please turn that asshat off Michael, can't stand a word coming out of this mans mouth." Michael couldn't help but feel a small stab in his chest, he too, had once viewed Trump as an idiot, but the longer he found himself staring into those misty blue eyes, well he just couldn't stop his heart from softening.

And in that moment, he realised deep down, perhaps he already had a long time ago, that when he oppertunity to meet Donald in a few weeks time arrose - he would take it.

 


	4. Chapter 4

Smile. Wave. Make a racist joke.  
Donald took a deep breath and adjusted his tye: republican red of course. Just like his favourite hair on Michael...  
"Enough!" He shouted at his reflection in the mirror. He couldn't get a boner: not now. Not with all his fans screaming his name, not with the media waiting for him to mess up.   
He quickly changed his thoughts to the socialist scum Bernie Sanders to quell his raging erection. The more he thought of the man's views on the Iraq war, the more his balls and penis receded back inside him, calming his nerves.  
He couldn't let these thoughts of Michael take over his life, he had an important speech to do. He couldn't let that fool Ted Cruz win the poles, he wasn't nearly as conservative as Donald. Cooking bacon on a gun was child's play in Donald World.  
Readjusting his toupee, Donald reached for his phone to check the media reports on his campaign so far. Scrolling through twitter, he smiled as Fox praised his debates.  
He heard the little ping of a new tweet. His notifications read:  
"@michael5sos just tweeted:  
Off to texas for warped tour hope i don't get killed in the pits lol"  
At that moment, Donald felt every single drop of blood in his body rush to his penis, causing The Almighty Beast to tear through his trousers like a child tearing the wrapping off a Christmas gift.  
He ran to the toilet before anyone could see his Trump Tower.   
"Think of Bernie, think of Bernie." He chanted.  
He was here. Michael was in Texas. Sure, it was a big state, but Donald had never felt as close to the musician since he watched HDWEUH? whilst hugging his Michael cut out and wearing his 5sos merch (the Michael booty shorts, the Calum jumper). His true love was so near him, yet so far away. Michael wouldn't be here long, and Donald was too busy giving speeches to get a plane to wherever he was.   
Looking down, Donald saw his penis calming: socialism had always been a huge turn off for him.  
Rearranging his pants and jacket to hid the rip, he prepared himself for the speech and tried to block Michael from his mind.  
Well, he tried at least.  
He opened the speech to the sounds of 200 rednecks cheering his name, waving banners and hanging on his every word. Donald had forgot about Michael.  
"DON'T STOP DONALD!" He heard a woman scream.  
Don't Stop. His favourite 5sos song. Michael...  
Donald began to stutter and shuffle at the podium. His trail of thought was lost in a sea of Michael thoughts. He couldn't continue the debate. Not like this.  
He managed to struggle his way through the rest of the debate, as he watched Cruz beat him time and time again. But he couldn't concentrate with all the Michael images running through his mind.   
As soon as the debate was over, he ran off the stage and made a b - line for the toilet before he had another apearence from Trump Tower.  
He had to stop this.  
He had to meet Michael.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I've been away it's time for more monald

Michael sat down on a stone wall and pulled out his phone, shielding the screen from the sun.  
Warped Tour had been fun so far. He'd met up with his friends and taken pictures with fans: he'd even met some of his favourite bands.  
But he knew he wasn't right. Looking at his screen seeing all the messages from Wade, he just couldn't bring himself to reply.  
"Hey babe how's the tour :) x"  
"Babe? X"  
"Are you ok??"  
"Well I've seen you tweeting so are you just ignoring me now"  
"Are you trying to say something to me, like I know we've been distant but this is crazy"  
"Just pick up the phone Michael"  
"Please"  
He knew he should feel bad for leaving Wade in the dark but he just... didn't. He wasn't even sure if he still loved Wade.  
Michael groaned, putting away his phone and rubbing his face. How could he have let this happen?  
His relationship with the man he had loved for years was crumbling away, all because of one man Michael hadn't even known the name of until a year ago.  
He was distracted from his thoughts but the feeling of his phone buzzing in his jorts pocked. It was Wade calling.  
Michael stared at the screen but couldn't bring himself to answer it.  
He let the phone ring out and the call ended, making it the 13th missed call from Wade.  
"I can't do this michael. I can't have you shut me out like this. Unless you're going to answer my calls, we're over. I'm sick of you doing this to me every time you go away it breaks my heart. I just can't be with someone who treats me like this. I'm sorry."  
Michael stared at the text for what seemed to be hours.  
But he felt nothing.  
Not a shred of sadness or regret, and not a single urge to call Wade to try to fix the mess he'd made.  
If anything, Michael was happy. He was free, single, without ties; now he could chase the man he truly loved without the fear of hurting Wade. Michael may not have loved him anymore but Wade had always been there for him when the touring was hard or the bleach had burned his scalp. He would always care for him.  
Standing up, Michael looked around.  
The sun was setting on the last day of the Tour, and all of the bands Michael had wanted to see had performed.  
Now, there was only man Michael wanted to see.  
I'd better call a cab, Michael thought, laughing to himself.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who needs proof reading when you can have grammatical errors
> 
> \- this chapter has been proof read.

Donald sighed.  
Undoing his tie, he relaxed on the duvet cover and shifted his head on the pillow.  
The continued buzzing of his phone on the bedside table was the only sound in the room, but the Presidential Candidate just let it ring. No doubt it was his publicist calling to ask what the hell had happened to him at the rally.  
"A shamble."  
"Trump fails to persuade the republicans in Texas."  
"Trump trails in Texas."  
Of course the media had jumped on his failure; they'd do anything they could to discredit him.  
"How did Donald J Trump loose to Ted Cruz?" He spoke out loud, shaking his head slightly.  
He sat up on the bed, rubbing the bald patch on his head to make sure he had washed all the toupee glue off his prominent bald patch.  
He looked over at his phone and decided it was time to stop ignoring the world.  
As he picked it up and unlocked the device, he saw that the phone calls were not from his publicist. They were from his wife.  
Donald shook his head. Why didn't it feel right to call her back? He still loved her, but was he IN love with her?  
Everything felt complicated... different.  
He didn't know who to love anymore.  
He opened twitter to see if the aftermath of his mess - it had only just died down - when he saw he had a new direct message.  
From Michael Clifford.  
_Michael._  
Donald felt his penis roar in his pants. His hands began to tremble so much he had to drop his phone on to the bed next to him and take some deep breaths.  
Everything he had ever wanted, for what felt like forever, had just messaged him to say... what had he said?!  
Donald grasped the phone and hurriedly unlocked it to see the message.  
"Hey, saw your rally in Texas! You were great :)"  
Donald read the message over and over again until the words burned into his retina.  
His stomach was filled with butterflies, he felt like he was in a fanfiction (*winks*) or a wild dream that he would wake up from. But it wasn't. It was real life.  
Donald stared at the screen, unsure what to do.  
Then, over the shouts from his penis, he thought of a reply, and carefully began to type out his response...


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Technology is a wonderful thing

"Hey, saw your rally in Texas! You were great :)"  
"Thanks.. ha ha"  
"Can't believe you lost to cruz, you're a much better leader"  
"Yeah haha I guess it was because I messed up"  
"Aw :( what happened?"  
Donald felt him stomach drop. You were the reason, he thought. Should he tell Michael though? A boy he'd only just communicated with for the first time?  
"Uh...I was thinking about someone"  
"Oh right"  
"Someone I love"  
"Oh."  
Donald frowned. Why was he replying like this?  
"Oh?"  
"Sorry. Just didn't know what to say"  
"It wasn't my wife though..."  
"Really"  
"Yeah it was someone else"  
"Ooooh"  
Donald began to panic, fearing he'd messed up his chances of building a relationship with the guitarist. All he wanted to do was tell Michael how much he longed to feel his meat between all four of his checks, but he was sure he would scare Michael away. He had to play it cool.  
"Yeah haha no one important though.. Just like a passing thought"  
"Oh right"  
"Yeah :/ how are you?"  
"Oh I'm ok just at warped tour"  
"Nice, where's that?"  
"Texas."


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael and Calum have a conversation.

Michael closed his eyes, his mind filled with images of Trump's sweet lumps. Sat in the hotel chair, he couldn't help but let out a quiet moan, as he thought of hold Donald's manly breasts in his hands.  
"Bro, what the fuck?"  
Calum stared at Michael, looking confused and slightly uncomfortable. He was hunched over his bass playing a sweet riff, that would make Mike Dirnt proud, with his wet hair pushed off his face, as small curls began to form.  
"Sorry," Michael said quickly, standing up. "I was thinking about...stuff."  
"By stuff do you mean Wade?" Calum scoffed, putting his bass aside.  
Michael began to stutter, caught off guard by Calum's comment about Wade. _Wade..._  
"Bro how many times do I have to tell you? People don't become lesbian, gay or bisex. People are just falling in love with other people." Calum said, a shy smile forming across his face.  
"...what?"  
"I don't know I saw it on tumblr. Listen, you're my best friend, even if you like penis, ok?" He put down his bass and stood up. Walking over to Michael, he patted the guitarist on the shoulder in a friendly, but manly way.  
"So, who is this hunk?" Calum laughed, walking back over to his bass and sitting on the floor.  
The hunkiest of them all, Michael thought to himself.  
"His name is...er...J." Michael said, not wanting his friend to know it was Donald. Everyone new Calum was a liberal, with how much he went on about weed being the cure for cancer and organic foods... Even more so than Ashton.  
"Jay?"  
"Yeah, J. Like the letter, not the name."  
Calum laughed.  
"Have you been on Grindr again?"  
"No!" Michael protested. Not after last time.  
"Look, he's a really nice guy Calum. I think I love him and I just need you to be happy for me right now, ok?"  
"Woah, woah. What about Wade? You two were engaged three weeks ago and now what? You're going to ditch him for a guy you spoke to once??" Confused, Calum furrowed his brow and stared up at Michael.  
"It's more complicated than that. Just leave it," he said, his voice cracking as the guilt from breaking Wade's heart began to hit him.  
He'd lost everything over Donald.  
"Maybe I should call Wade," he muttered, reaching for his phone.  
"Don't bother right now, he's working. Plus, I think he's changed his number, so you can't call him. But you need to fix this, Michael. He told me he's selling your stuff if you don't go back to see him in the next week. 'J' can wait. But Wade can't."  
Michael sat back down, looking out at the nightlife of the city below. His head said Wade but his heart said Donald and his penis said both.  
He had a week to patch things up with Wade, so his meeting with Donald would have to be soon. He unlocked his phone and went to his twitter DMs.  
After a few minutes, he and Donald had arranged to meet at a small coffee shop on the outskirts of Texas so no one would see them. Then Michael would be able to go to Wade and try to _at least_ save his stuff. "I can do that in a week, right?" He thought.  
"I can fix this Calum, I can fix this," he spoke confidently.  
"I hope so dude, I hope so."


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this is the worst one yet

Donald stared at his coffee, watching the air bubbles in the frothy milk slowly pop and disappear. Michael was late.  
After weeks of sunny weather, the heavens had opened and what seemed like gallons of rain was falling from the sky above.  
The cafe was empty, except for Donald and the waiter, who kept squinting at Donald as he tried to recognise him. Who knew taking off his toupee would be such a great disguise?  
The bell on the cafe door jingled, causing Donald's head to snap up.  
Michael stood in the doorway. He was soaked to the bone after walking through the downpour, his hair stuck to his forehead.  
"Sorry I'm late," he gasped, shivering from the cold.  
Donald was speechless. He felt Trump Towers roar as it began to press up against the bottom of the table. Luckily, the tablecloth covered The Mighty Staff once it had awakened.  
Michael sat across from him, hanging his coat on the back of the chair to let it dry, then scraping his hair back from his face.  
"Hey," he said quietly, smiling. He gazed into Donald's eyes, but looked away fearing he could get lost in them. He felt his Cliffaconda begin to awaken causing him to shuffle in his seat as their knees brushed together.  
"How are you?" He struggled to say unable to look the Presidential Candidate in the eye.  
"I'm good, glad to see you." Donald smiled.  
"Can I get a coffee, please?" Michael leaned over in the direction of the waiter, who squinted again, then turned on the coffee machine and began making Michael's order.  
"So er.. what happened to that person you were thinking of the other day?" Michael said, a hint of disappointment in his voice.  
"It was...It was you Michael."  
The guitarist looked up in shock, feeling his loins get warmer and warmer and his balls filled with sperm, with a wish to impregnate the politician in front of him.  
"M..me?"  
"Yes. I know it's forward, but I love you Michael. I've loved you ever since the Wherever You Are video. I'm willing to give up my wife, my job, everything - for a future with you."  
"Oh Donald..." Michael felt a tear roll down his cheek, which Donald wiped away with his tiny, stubby thumb.  
"I mean it Michael, I-" they were interupted by loud banging on the window.  
"MICHAEL! OH MY GOD I LOVE YOU MICHAEL!!"  
"MICHAEL TAKE A PICTURE WITH ME!!"  
"YOU MEAN EVERYTHING TO ME MICHAEL OH MY GOD!!"  
The coffee shop was surrounded by fans banging on the window screaming his name.  
Michael and Donald jumped up, Donald thanking the Lord that Trump Tower had gone back into hibernation.  
Michael began to panic. How did they find us? How did they know we were here? This place is empty , he thought. But...  
It wasn't.  
Michael looked over at the waiter, who was trying to avoid eye contact.  
Grabbing his phone, he opened twitter and his stomach dropped: #monaldtrifford was trending worldwide.  
A photo of Michael and Donald sat together was circling the internet. A photo taken from over the bar, where the waiter was stood.  
Michael began to shake with fear as he saw Donald panicking.  
"We have to go!" Michael urged, grabbing Donald's arm and pulling him towards the back entrance of the cafe, as he heard the fans begin to run in through the door of the cafe.  
Donald and Michael ran onto the busy street, where people began to recognise the two of them.  
This time it was Donald dragging Michael to his car, where his chauffeur was waiting for them.  
"Drive, please! Go!" Donald yelled frantically as both of them gasped for breath.  
"Where can we go? We can't go to my hotel, people know I'm there!" Donald sobbed, holding his head in his hands.  
Michael grabbed Donald's hands and held them in his.  
"I know a hotel were we can stay. My friend is there but he's not going to tell anyone, trust me. We'll be safe there, I promise."  
Donald's nerves began to ease as he sat back in the car.  
"OK. We'll go there."  
Both of them sat in silence. Trump Tower and The Cliffaconda's gravitational pulls fought for dominance all the way through the drive to the hotel.  
When they got there, they took the elevator up to the 18th floor, then quickly ran across the hallway to the door of the room.  
Michael banged on the door, waiting to be let in.  
After a few seconds, Calum opened the door. His eyes were red and puffy and he had a bag of organic dried fruits in one hand and a huge blunt in the other. He looked and Michael, then at Donald and chuckled.  
"This had better be good."


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I haven't updated I've been revising because apparently I can't write Monald fanfiction as a job andivebeenwatchingbatesmoteloops

Michael pushed past Calum with little resistance from his friend, pulling Donald into the hotel room by the hand.  
Calum quickly ran towards his bed, where a wide range of drug paraphernalia was scattered.  
"It's erm...medicinal," he began, pulling his duvet over the range of bongs and 10 - bags, as if to try and hid it.  
"Calum, why are you trying to hide it we've already see the drugs," Michael said, confused.  
"Well, most politicans aren't into this stuff, and I don't wanna get arrested so."  
"You have a joint in your hand, Calum."  
"IT CURES CANCER MICHAEL, GOD!"  
"You don't even have cancer!"  
Calum took another drag from his joint, then put it out and went to open the window. He shrugged.  
"I'm not taking any chances, it's working for Snoop so it will work for me."  
Donald, meanwhile, was still stood near the door, silently holding his hands to his chest. Bernie smoked weed. Was Calum socialist scum too? Who knew meeting his friends would be this hard, Donald thought to himself.  
"Babe, sit down," Michael gestured towards the one chair in the room near the window, which Donald went to and sat down, feeling slightly more at home.  
"What happened to you two then?" Calum rested against the wall looking Michael then Donald.  
"We got swarmed by fans, so I brought Donald back here for safety. We won't be here long."  
"Yeah, you might want to send Donald out soon."  
Michael shot Calum a look. He was rested against the wall but hand his arms crossed, and was tapping his foot vigorously.  
"You never smoke this much weed unless your stressed," Michael began to walk slowly over to his friend, who shuffled away.  
"I'm not stressed," Calum quickly replied, looking at the floor.  
"Calum you're a terrible liar. What's happened."  
"Look," he sighed, "I just wanted to make things right between you two."  
"Between who-"  
Suddenly, a thunderous sound could be heard from outside the window. A flash of red crossed the glass from behind the curtains, and the ground shook slightly.   
A superhero landing...  
"Calum..."  
"Michael!" A voice could be hear from outside. Michael rushed over to the window and ripped the curtains back, forcing the window up and open and nd peering out.  
Outside stood a man dressed in red spandex mixed with black eyes. The mouthless face looked up at him as he put his swords into their scabbards.  
"Wade, what are you doing here?" Michael shouted down.  
Wade pulled of the mask.  
"I came to see you," he shouted.  
"I thought we were over," Michael yelled back, his mind trailing to Donald who was sat behind him.  
"Who is that?" Donald asked, getting up.  
"No one, a friend. It's nothing honestly."  
"I...," Donald paused then lunged forward pushing Michael from the window. "I don't believe you!"  
Donald peered out, looking down at the equally wrinkled man below him. Michael sure had a type.  
"Who are you?" He inquired, squinting more than usual.  
"Wh...what the fuck is this?! Michael! Where's Michael?!" Confused, Wade rubbed his face staring at the Presidential Candidate above him.  
"I'm his boyfriend. Who are you?"  
Wade let out a shriek of laughter, but not the good kind, the kind you'd hear when someone heard something terrible and the only thing that they can do is laugh.  
"Jesus Christ! Really Michael?! All this time we were engaged were you just fucking Trump? TRUMP?! Oh my god!" Wade began to pace below in the street, throwing his arms in the air as he screamed.  
Donald put his head back in hotel room.   
"You..you were engaged to him?" He said with a broken whisper.  
It was at this point Calum realised he'd fucked up.   
He sat down on the bed and avoided Michael's glare which he could feel burning into his beautiful Maori skin.  
"Michael?" Donald asked.  
The guitarist was shaking his head, not sure what to do.  
"Yes, we were. And I left him for you-"  
Michael reached for Donald's hand but the Orange Fox moved away, looking down at the musician in horror.  
"How could you hurt someone like that? I mean, you must have loved him if you were engaged."  
"But everything's different now, babe. I love you."  
"Is it really Michael?" Wade yelled from outside. "Take my advice Trump. If he can do it to me- the guy he was with for 3 years and engaged for 1- then he can do it to you!" And with that, Wade pulled on his mask and ran back off into the city, hoping to find someone to beat up.  
The hotel room was silent. Michael and Donald stared at each other whilst Calum held his hands over his mouth in shock.  
"I don't think I can do this anymore Michael," Donald began to move away from the window and back towards the door.  
Michael lay on the floor.  
"Don't say that baby, please." Tears filled his eyes and he watched Donald open the hotel door.  
"This was a mistake. I'm sorry." And with that, Donald closed the door and ran out of the hotel back door.   
He reached for his phone call his car. What had he been thinking? Getting involved like this? This was crazy, he had a wife and a daughter and-  
Two gloved hands covered Donald's face, over his mouth and eyes. He began to struggle, but suddenly the hand was moved from his eyes, and seconds later a heavy blow to the back of his head knocked him out cold.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Forgive me Lord for I have memed

Michael sat, shaking his head.  
"Everything is messed up. I've lost them both. I'm so- Calum are you smoking weed again?"  
"IT CURES CANCER!"  
"God damn it, Calum, the whole room smells like fucking brussel sprouts." Michael walked through the thin mist that surround his friend who was now lay one the bed chuckling quietly to himself.  
"Hehe.. brussel sprouts," he mumbled.  
"Shut up, you're supposed to be supporting me - not laughing at me." Michael walked over to the door of the room, ready to leave.  
"God," he mumbled, "How did I end up here?"  
"DO DODO DODO! DO DODO DOD-"  
"Fucking hell Calum!"  
Michael pulled the door open quickly and stumbled out of the hotel room, bumping into someone.  
"Oh, sorry I...Donald?"  
Donald stood there, looking slightly dishevelled and out of breath. He cracked a broken-looking smile.  
"Mi..chael," he said wearily.  
"Thank god! I thought you'd run away and left me, I was so heartbroken! Come on, let's go out, I can make it up to you." Michael gushed, grabbing Donald's cold yet clammy hand and pulled him towards the elevator.  
Donald cracked the same broken smile, and followed him to the elevator.  
As they stepped in, Michael decided he was going to make a move (they'd been together for about 2 hours... so it was about time right?) on Donald. They stood together in the elevator and, once the door closed, Michael reached out and placed his childlike hand against the Businessman's booty. He almost frowned- it didn't feel like the butt of a 69 year old, but more a 45 year old. 'Donald must be doing some heavy weights with those squats,' he thought. He squeezed lightly, as if he were checking the freshness of a loaf of bread. Donald looked at him, a broken smile again plastered on his face.  
Michael chuckled and pulled Donald in for a sensual kiss. But as their tongues mixed like a bag of salt and shake crisps, Michael couldn't help but notice Donald's sandpaper tongue didn't taste of coffee, capitalism and pride - but instead bitterness and star signs.  
Michael pulled away. He looked at the American before him. His eyes were squinted and soulless. His mouth had that broken, crooked smile, as though he were greeting a stranger but had just smelt a fart.  
"D..Donald?" Michael pulled away, but not quickly enough, as Donald swung at him, his big meaty claws connecting with Michael's face and sending him crashing to the floor.  
"You should have played along, boy," Donald said, but with a voice that sounded like a Canadian born Texan.  
"Who...who are you?" Michael tried to get up, but was too dazed to stand.  
"Your future president." The man laughed. "Did they really think I'd step down? Quit the race? Never."  
"What are you talking abo-"  
"If the people want Trump, they can have his body. But the leader they need is right here. Ted Cruz will always be here."  
Michael felt his stomach drop. It was Ted Cruz.  
Where was Donald? How was Ted dressed so realistically? Was he wearing Donald as a skin suit?  
"Wh..where's Donald?" The aussie murmured, making Cruz chuckle.  
"Out of the picture."  
The door of the elevator opened, and Cruz stepped out.  
"Goodbye Michael." He said, pressing a button on the elevator. Michael looked up, and was about to yell something, but he colapsed to the floor and the doors closed in front of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because Michael Gove insists all children do 5 million exams there probably won't be an update for a while (I mean like a month or 2) but we will return with more monald don't worry :))))


	12. Chapter 12

Standing over the unconscious Trump tied to a chair, Ted Cruz cracked a broken smile.  
Sanders was almost defeated. Hilary was loosing support every day. Donald however...  
Donald was stronger than ever before.  
His plan was simple: invade Tump's campaign using his new custom skin suit (moulded to every wrinkle and fake tan mark on the orange man's bod) and take down the evil Clinton administration, before there were more Monika Lewinskis running around the oval office.  
He reached behind is head and, like a slitheen, unzipped his Cruz skin suit.  
Now, he stood naked, in his true lizard form, towering over the sleeping Trump as his skin suit lay crumpled at his claw-covered feet.  
He slithered over to his suit rail- SKIN suit rail.  
Everyone from Trump to Ezra Koenig, his rail had the worst and best of society in suit form at his lizard fingers.  
He did the weird wiggly tongue thing lizards do, before selecting his next skin suit.  
It was time for him to take over this election campaign.  
And with that, he grabbed the fresh Trump suit and a large tube of Vaseline (his scales were getting dry and those suits were so tight he had to lube up. Besides, if it was good enough for Sebastian Stan it was good enough for the Lizard man).  
He scuttled off into the shadows because he didn't want Donald to wake and see him mid-change; the weird weather had mess with his scales and he was feeing kind of self conscious.  
He emerged and, with a smirk and a quick rearrange of the Trump suit's crotch, he walked out of the cellar to begin his work.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael receives a shock

Michael groaned, rubbing his face with his hands. He tried to roll over but cried out in agony, his body bruised like a peach after the elevator incident.  
Calum stood over him with a stoic, indie front man vibe and took a drag of his cig.  
"I knew this would happen." he said in a monotone voice, before moving away from the injured musician to put his cigarette out.  
"Wh..what would happen? What's going on Calum?"  
"I didn't want you to find out this way," Calum said in a voice that was almost unfamiliar to Michael.  
"Find out what?"  
"My name isn't Calum, Michael."  
He paused and looked up. "I'm not who you think I am."  
Michael propped himself up on his elbows, dazed and confused.  
"What are you talking about? Calu-" but before he could finish, Calum was pulling off his shirt and trousers to revel a skin tight suit underneath, like a wetsuit which he reached back to unzip.  
"Jesus Calum are you gonna show me your dick?!" Michael blurted out in shock as he watches his friend strip in front of him.  
Yet, under the wetsuit was another suit, a proper one that smart business men wear. Calum's hands looked as white as they do in the magazine images of him after Photoshop, and they were far more wrinkled than before.  
"...Cal?"  
And with that, Calum reached behind his head and pulled the mask forward, revealing his true identity.  
"...Bernie Sanders?!"  
Bernie pushed his hair out of his face, and pulled out his glasses from his pocket. Adjusting them on his face, he looked up at Michael and smiled.  
"Hello Michael."  
"What the fuck is happening? You're not Calum? Where's Calum?!"  
"He's in The Nice Guy with Luke as usual. He knows what's happening here." Bernie walked towards Michael slowly as the guitarist struggled to stand, half crippled with shock, half crippled from injury.  
"What do you mean? What's happening? Was all the weed fake then?" "I'm a liberal Michael," Bernie laughed. "Besides, how do you think I look so young?' "Oh my god," Michael tried to stand, but Bernie launched himself forward and grabbed Michael by the shoulders.  
Bernie took in a deep breath. "Listen Michael, we don't have much time. The whole government has been taken over by the lizard people who want to invade our world. As much as I disagree with your boyfriend's policies, he and I are the only politicians who haven't been taken over by lizards. We're the only ones who can stop the lizard people, but now Trump has been captured it's just you and me left to stop them." Michael clutched his head as he tried to register what was happening.  
"Wh...what about Cruz?"  
"He's their lizard king," Bernie muttered like a curse word under his breath.  
"Hillary?"  
"HilLIZARDy more like. They use high tech skin suits, but the problem is, they need the actual person to make the suit. Whether it's their actual skin or not...I just don't know. But we have to stop them, even if the chance of saving the lizard people's captives is small. We have to move fast to save Donald and anyone else they've captured."  
"Holy shit...how do we stop them?" Michael stared into Bernie's eyes, and Bernie stared back.  
"I have an idea." Bernie smirked as though he had just given everyone in America free health care.  
"We play them at their own game."


	14. Chapter 14

***********  
Tom sat on the beach and cried. He looked behind him at the masses of cameras waiting to take the perfect shot, while Taylor was still consulting her make up artist and stylist. He turned his head and tried to block out all the noise, taking in the sunset.  
The different hues of red and yellow danced across the sky as the sun vanished behind the seemingly never ending sea. It's was perfect- too perfect.  
He heard the sound of pebbles shifting as Taylor walked over to him.  
"Do I have to do this?" Tom asked, tears brimming in his eyes.  
Taylor scoffed. "Do you want to be James Bond or not?"  
Tom looked down at his feet.  
"Of course you do. And anyway, this isn't just about you, Tom. I need to stay relevant between records. And boy, have me and Kim got something scandalous coming." She began to laugh, before grabbing Tom's hand and pulling him up towards the boulders.  
Once they sat down, Tom tried to block out the sounds of clicks and photographers shouting directions at them and instructing them to pose.  
Once it was done, Tom ran back to his hotel -not Taylor's house - and practically threw himself into his shower, trying to clense the wrong doing he had just done from his body.  
"It's for Bond. It's for Bond," he muttered to himself and he poured more Radox onto his skin, but the stench of deceit over powered the gentle scent of chamomile and jasmine.  
How long would he have to do this? And at what cost to his career?


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> https://youtu.be/0U1ldY_U0TU rip harambe

"What do we do?"  
"We need help. We can't beat them on our own."  
"Well, who can help us?"  
Bernie looked up at Michael, gazzing through his whispy brows with a serious glare.  
"Michael..."  
Michael frowned, perplexed as to what Bernie was hinting at. And then it clicked.  
"No."  
"Michae, please. We need him."  
"Absolutely not. I can't. I CANT Bernie."  
"You have to call him."  
"I am NOT calling Wade!"  
"Michael, the fate of America lies in our hands. We need all the help we can get to beat them. Look," Bernie walked over to the TV and turned it on.  
"Please welcome the Presidential Candidate for the Democrat party, Hillary Clinton!" The voice spoke over the TV.  
"What the hell? I thought... I thought she was going to get arrested! She's a criminal!"  
"She's a lizard that's what she is. Look," said Bernie, pointing to himself on the TV.  
"That's you?"  
"No way. They made a skin suit out of me before I escaped from the party."  
"The party?"  
"The whole democrat party is infested with Lizard people Michael. It's overrun. The left wing have become the lizard wing. That's why they're using my skin suit, they need my supporters to vote for her and not Jill Stein."  
Bernie looked at Michael.  
"If the Democrats get in with these creatures running it, the whole country will collapse. It will destroy America. We are the only ones who can save it and the people living here. You have to call him!"  
Michael cursed under his breath, then grabbed his phone and walked out to the hotel hallway and dialled Wade's number.  
"Hello?"  
"Wade is that you?"  
"...what do you want Michael?"  
"OK, Wade, this is all going to sound crazy but I need your help."  
"Wha... help with what?"  
"It's a long story but just let me explain."  
*******  
"And then Bernie told me that if we don't stop the lizards America will be destroyed and we need your help to stop them."  
There was silence on the other end of the phone.  
"W..Wade?"  
"I can't believe you Michael. I can't believe you'd do this to me. You think this is funny?"  
"No, Wade this isn't a joke. Please I need you to come over here now, please I'm begging you."  
"I can't tell if this is a joke or you're insane but either way don't ever call me again. You've wasted my time. I have bad guys to murder. I'm blocking your number."  
"Wade pl-"  
The line went dead.  
Michael went back in the hotel room with a sigh.  
"Well?"  
Michael shook his head.  
"This is bullshit. Harambe wouldn't do this to us, he was my top man."  
"You mean..."  
Bernie nodded gravely. "The lizards took him out for helping the resistance. The kid was a plant."  
"Christ!"  
"There's no time for this! If no one is going to help us we need to do it ourselves."  
Bernie ran towards the bathroom and began to rummage through the products. Once he had found what he was looking for he reemerged with a packet of Loo Blus and a half full bottle of Dettol.  
"Let's go clean up this shit."


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lizards, they're my favourite spiky reptile *so scaly*  
> Lizards, I'd freak out if I saw you in the bath *cold blooded*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's my birthday tommorow and I'm probably gonna spend it writing more of this nightmare what's wrong with me

****  
Smashing his phone against the wall like Powsimian did when he found out there was cheese on his pizza (look it up, like that), Tom seethed with rage.  
He'd been dropped from his deal with Calvin Klein.  
He'd done the most awkward photo shoot to ever exist in this universe in his white undies in a dodgy hotel room.  
He'd almost polluted the entire world's oceans and killed all the wildlife in it with the toxic Cringe he had emitted with his antics on the beach on the 4th of July.  
And now he was out of the running for Bond.  
He was quickly becoming the kind of guy that YouTube commentary channels make videos on called "CRINGIEST MAN TO EVER EXIST ON THE FACE OF THIS PLANET" and other hyperbolic titles.  
Tom was on the edge: the edge of a breakdown.  
He had forbidden Taylor from coming within a 1200 mile radius of him or he would call Katy Perry to fight her. It had worked so far and there had been no sign of the songstress.  
This is what happens when you change publicist, Tom thought to himself as he slumped onto his sofa l. He proceeded to curl up in a ball and cry, quite violently to the point where even he was embarrassed listening to his heartbroken wails echo around his minimalist apartment.  
He realised he probably wasn't the only one who could hear his cries as there was a load knock at the door.  
Tom rubbed his eyes and pushed back his slightly receded hair, trying to shape himself up and not look like a complete fool, after all, he'd brought it all on himself.  
He reached for the door handle and pulled it open quickly.  
"What do you wh-"  
Taylor stood in the doorway, looking up at Tom through her eyelashes.  
"Tom," she said, her voice trailing as she saw his bloodshot eyes. "What's wrong?"  
"Nothing," Tom turned his back on Taylor, leaving the door open as he walked back to his sofa.  
She followed, her eyes drawn to the smashed up phone in the corner of the room.  
"What happened to your phone Tom?"  
"Look, Taylor," he began, walking towards her. "We need to stop seeing each other."  
A look of shock graced Taylor's face. "What?"  
"My career is deteriorating. I'm loosing sponsorships and roles, even my impressions are shit, like have you heard my Bob DiNero? I thought he was going to punch me in the face when I did it for him. I have to focus on my career babe. I can't keep doing this."  
Taylor's face suddenly filled with anger, her eyes focused on Tom. The whites of her eyes quickly turned a deep emerald green, and her pupils began to resemble that of a...  
"Taylor?"  
She swipped at Tom, sending his body flying across the room and slamming into the wall.  
He lay in agony, his head ringing as Taylor walked towards him. She stood over his defenceless middle class dandy frame, her form changing as her skin was covered in the outline of scales and had a distinctive green hue.  
"Tay," he tried to speak but he words trailed away as the pain in his back overcame him.  
"Oh Tom," her voice was distorted and menacing. "Did you really think you'd get out of this one? That you'd be different from the rest?"  
"The rest?" Tom thought.  
Taylor grabbed his ankle and began to drag him towards the door like a small child being protected by our Lord and saviour Harambe.  
Tom took one final look at Taylor. Her hands were covered in deep green scales that were cold on Tom's ankle. Her nails were now claws that glinted ad if they had done the 100 layers of highlight challenge. The sharp point was more menacing and dangerous than the fake nails of a Beverly Hills mom. They were slightly yellowed and as thick as an ivory tusk.  
And then Tom blacked out.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> guess whos back  
> back again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lowkey filler chapter

With a bang, Michael and Bernie burst through the ceilling of the underground lair, falling to the ground amidst the debris.   
They quickly gathered themselves and began to follow the winding corrordoors towards the sounds of... famous people screams?  
"I'm missing my appointment with my cosmetologist! My cuiticles are falling apart!!"

\- okay what did the other people say?  
\- uh  
\- ...  
\- famous people dont do anything!

"Theres ANOTHER hole in my already-vintage-distressed-levis!"  
"My chanel parfume has worn off"   
"Just say fucking perfume Jeffery" 

"You hear that Michael! It's barbaric." Bernie sighed. He knew under Trumps reign this was bound to happen eventually.  
"So what now!" The young man-boy cried out, "are we just going to let this happen?"  
"No." Bernie replied, the camera panning in to just his eyes and intense music fading in from nowhere 

"Not in my America."


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i hope trump doesnt arrest us now hes our dark lord

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "This is gonna be a long chapter we're gonna need a boss battle in here somewhere."

"What do we do Bernie?"  
He looked around. "We have to try to save these famous people and get them out of here before their lizard impersonators take their lives permanently."  
The room was filled with celebrities as far as Bernie's short sighted eyes, ravaged by the hands of time, could see. Each one of the celebs was covered ith a black sack and tied to a wooden chair. Bernie lunged at the person closest to him and ripped off their sack (lol).  
"Ezra Koenig?" Michael gasped. So THIS was why his favourite indie rock band hadn't been producing music.  
"Oh thank god you've found me! I've been trapped down here since 2013."  
"Well, who else is down here?" Michael panicked, looking frantically at the others around him.  
"Everyone, just take off the bags. Think of anyone and they're down here I bet."  
Michael rushed forward and ripped off two more bags.  
"MY CREEPY STALKER KIDNAPPED ME??!?!?!"  
"Saaaayyyyy ni-"  
"We're losing time Michael!" Bernie grabbed him by the collar. "You help the celebs out of their bags and I'll get ready to fight the lizardmen when they come- and they will come." (lol again.)  
Michael began untying as Bernie prepped and after a long time, Michaels wrists were already tired to begin with from all the mucho masturbation he'd embarked in since Donald's departure, he managed to free almost everyone.  
"Wait what about me?" Ezra screamed.  
"Give us one reason why we should let you go." Michael glowered back, they hadn't released an album in four years and he'd grown impatient.  
"I'll upload Pizza Party to Spotify." Bernie was already halfway through untying the ropes.  
Jefferey Starr opened his mouth to be freed as well "No not you." Michael answered.  
"Twitter will hear about this." 

Just then, there was a bang  
"Bang"  
"Did you hear that bang??"  
"Of course I heard that bang!"  
Lizzards descended from the ceilling, Harry Styles in the You and I perfume advert style.  
"It's time."

We dont know how to write an epic boss battle so just use your imagination k thx. 

Bernie collapsed succumbing to the wound in his abdomen. Michael rushed to his side, cradling the mans balding crainium. "Bernie, my sweet prince, not today. Not today!"  
But it was today. The lizzard people had been destroyed. They lay slain in front of the them. All were safe. Michael looked down at the older man with tears in his communist eyes, "Don't leave me, dont go, fight against it, don't go towards the light. I..." he stuttered, Bernie took his last breath, tensions were high.

".. Love you."

But Bernie had already closed his eyes.


	19. Epilogue

Michael Clifford, or M.C.Dog as his comrades now called him, looked up into the dirty mirror in the bathroom of the abandoned Trump Motel (one of 6 billion scattered world wide). Five years had passed since he lost the love of his life, Bernie Sanders, in the great fight that would grow later to be known as The Lizzard Crusade. Sure, they'd saved tens of people that night, but Michael had lost the only one he truly cared about.

Now, on the 6th of February 2021, all has gone to shit. He lead a secret communist revolution on the outskirts of society. They were small now, but growing rapidly. 

Trump reigned over the entire world - on paper. But Michael knew better. He smeared some black substance of some kind onto his cheeks, like in Rambo. Five years ago, Donald Trump, his ex-lover, snatched his true love away from him forever, but Michael knew, deep deep down Trump could never take away one thing.

His freedom. 

Now, it was personal. He left the bathroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay tuned for Mr All American: Civil War.


End file.
